


R.U.O.K. - All Directions

by Notasmuch



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Genderqueer Character, M/M, Multi, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1908924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notasmuch/pseuds/Notasmuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if One Direction were a ~punk band that was inexplicably wildly popular and dealt with all kinds of important social topics?</p><p>This is just a few images shaped as a fic, more tell than show, probably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	R.U.O.K. - All Directions

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for homophobic and racist slurs. (Also, I deal with some sensitive topics, like gender fluidity and racism etc. Some of them I'm intimately familiar with, others not - racism for instance - if I messed something up, please let me know.)
> 
> Not betaed.

“Management,” Liam said and picked up the call ignoring Louis when he rolled his eyes. “Liam here, hello.”

He listened to the annoyed voice on the other side and watched Niall climb on top of Louis, finally taking his phone away to pause the Twitter fiasco for a little while.

Only the five of them were on the bus, which was rare but they suspected the crew preferred to be left out of their make out sessions sometimes and gave them alone time on purpose. The other bus was where the party was happening, Liam was pretty sure.

Niall would laugh and pull Louis back in every time Louis tried to go for the phone. It made Liam smile even as the word 'lawsuit' was being thrown around the other side of the phone. He promised to talk to Louis, like he was the other boy's keeper, and thanked the person politely for taking time to resolve this situation.

Louis scoffed at him over Niall's shoulder.

“Thicke's lawyers are saying they'll sue if you keep harassing him and enticing our fans to do the same. Apparently he's losing sleep over this.”

“Good,” Louis said with a scowl before Niall kissed him again. Liam loved Niall's powers of persuasion.

“He's not wrong, you know,” Zayn piped up from the other side of the couch Louis and Niall were making out on.

“I know,” Liam said, “but I think you told him as much as you can, he knows he's a sexist piece of shit, at this point you're just insulting him.”

“I don't see a problem with that,” Louis said.

“I know you don't,” Liam did. 

“But everything good you say gets forgotten when you start like calling him names, that's how it goes,” Harry called out from the hallway where he was doing something to his hair which was bright red that day even though it had been green yesterday. Liam looked at Zayn hoping for an explanation on how but just got a shrug in reply. 

Liam looked at Zayn’s cellphone suspiciously. “Are you Tweeting him right now?” 

“No, I’m reading some lyrics Harry sent me.” 

“You wrote lyrics?” Liam asked Harry. He didn’t usually. He was the singer and happy with that, Liam thought. Louis and Zayn and Liam usually did the lyrics and Niall ended up writing most of the music even though they were all involved. 

Liam squeezed in between Louis and Zayn, happy to be under Niall’s roaming hands every now and then. “Wait, did you all read them?” he asked Niall and Louis because they didn’t seem too bothered about the news. 

“Yep,” Louis answered. 

“But why didn’t I know about this?” 

Harry had been suspiciously quiet since the conversation started and Liam stretched over Zayn’s head to see Harry poke at his hair pointlessly and avoid his eyes. “Harry?” 

“They are just funny lyrics, it’s not a big deal, we can’t even make music to them,” Harry decided, still not looking at him. 

“Yes we can,” Niall countered, still kissing Louis. 

“So can I not read them?” Liam asked, hating the little wobble in his voice. It finally got Harry to look at him though and then he ran over behind the couch, cupping Liam’s chin and kissing him deep, which wasn’t an answer except in Harry-land. 

“Please don’t tell me if you hate them, okay? Just, tell Niall or something.” Harry kissed him again and disappeared to hide in the bunks.

Zayn handed him his phone and Liam started reading. 

They were very… Harry. 

He sighed and went to find him with the phone still in his hand, ignoring Zayn’s grabby hands.

Harry was in Zayn’s official bunk and Liam climbed in, curled around his back and pulled him in close. “What are you afraid I’m gonna do?” 

“Hate them.” 

It kinda sounded like ‘Hate me,’ Liam thought. 

“I could never hate your lyrics,” he kissed Harry behind the ear. 

“They are shit though, they’re not about anything important.” 

“They are fun, and they are about you. That makes them important.” 

“It didn’t really happen.” 

“It happened, just not with a random stranger. But I definitely remember all of this,” he raised the phone to look at it even though he pretty much knew the text already, “‘I know that he's got plans for me, on the kitchen table, on the bed, strapped to a four-poster giving him head.’ That was a good night.” 

“It was, yeah,” Harry was a bit more relaxed under him now and Liam kissed down his jaw until their lips met. His spiked hair probably poked into Harry’s ear but he didn’t complain, just turned a bit so they were more comfortable. 

“I like them,” Liam finally said. He always wished they could sing about their relationship more but they hinted at it hard enough, they weren’t at the point yet where coming out as whole band fucking, in those actual words, would be accepted well. Though he didn’t understand why “we are all in love with each other” wasn’t a massive hint to everyone. He actually saw their fans get bashed on twitter for saying they meant it literally. People were ridiculous. 

“Yeah?” Harry asked, tentatively, and it was funny because his hair was a bright red that could be seen from space and his whole personality was just as bright but about this he was an insecure mess, biting his lip tender with eyes wide and careful. 

“I don’t lie!” Liam said mock offended. 

Harry tugged on a spike in his hair sharply. “You’re too fucking nice, you’d lie to spare my feelings.” 

“Nah, I’m too punk for that.” 

“Ugh,” Harry started pushing his face away but Liam caught his hand and kissed his palm. 

“I really like them, it sucks you can’t write about us, but maybe the song will be more fun this way.” 

Harry finally stopped trying to push him out and settled against him. “Good.” 

“I hate that you’re scared of me,” Liam said, because he knew he could be intense about their music but he didn’t think he was an asshole about it, much, with people other than Louis, who he knew could take it. 

“I’m not! Your opinion just really means a lot and this was about us and it’s scary, okay, it’s not you it’s the situation.” 

“That’s a new one.” 

“Well I’m a poet now so it’s okay.” 

Liam laughed silently and kissed him again. “Come on, let’s go see what that noise in lounge is about, and then, if he’s up for it, we can get Niall to mess with the music for it a bit, I’m sure he already has something.” 

When they came back to the lounge Niall was being tag teamed by Louis and Zayn. It was an unfortunate combination that usually only Niall could handle because it meant all the pain and none of the orgasms. Louis was into marks, Zayn was into making people wait until they died of blue balls. Liam petted Niall’s head and fell into a chair, pulling Harry into his lap. It made for a good show, but Liam and Harry were definitely coming. 

**

_“Why did you name yourselves 'All Directions,' how did that come about?”_

“Well we were talking about it one day and we realized that between us, we really went 'all directions' if you know what I mean. Although, that was back when poor Niall thought he was straight. I suppose it's a bit of a misnomer now, innit, love?” Louis answered and rubbed his hand on the inside of Niall's thigh, watching him blush wonderfully. He couldn't deny it though, so he just shrugged and smiled like an angel for the camera. The interviewer choked on his own spit.

**

Louis was tuning his bass and watching Liam’s fingers as he assembled his drums. They were supposed to let roadies do all of that for them but Liam was picky about his drums, would find fault if god himself came down and assembled them for him, and Louis simply liked to watch him do it. They had to be done before the doors opened though or the fans would start a screaming match and the security would be all over them in a second. 

He had a good feeling about tonight. They were all buzzing and the crowd in Birmingham was always wild but now they were close to the end of their tour and there was a hint of desperation about the fans, like they didn’t already have a new world tour set for next year or a new album half done. 

The dressing room was a frenzy of mostly Niall. When Louis looked over to Harry and Zayn he understood why. They were going all out tonight. Zayn was painting a gigantic blue butterfly over Harry’s face. The lower wings were across his cheeks and the upper ones started on his eyelids and went half way up to his forehead. He was wearing black leather boots and black jeans that looked painted onto him and of course nothing on top because he would do concerts naked if he could. Louis thought there was maybe a few new tattoos on his left arm but he wasn’t sure. It was Pride week somewhere in world, so Harry’s hair was rainbow colored. 

Zayn went for mesh this time. Just a wide, pointless net over his long torso, hiding nothing, especially not the beautiful silver nipple rings - connected with a chain, what the fuck - and being incredibly annoying anyway. He had regular jeans but of course ripped and covered in paint fingerprints because Zayn was nothing if not pretentiously casual. The studs in his nose and ears and probably his tongue were silver too, so that looked to be his theme for the evening. Louis wanted to blow him so hard his mouth started salivating. 

He heard Liam snicker and glared at him before they both focused on Niall who gave both of them a slightly desperate once-over and rushed to the clothes hanger again, searching desperately. 

Liam’s spikes were in full bloom, he was wearing his regular sleeveless white shirt with cut shorts - supposedly practical for drumming, in reality frustrating for everyone forced to watch his muscles move obscenely covered with sweat and glistening under the stupid lights - and two hankies in the left pocket. Louis didn’t comment. 

And Louis was having a lazy day so his hair was just sort of up and around and he was in all black. Although he really loved his wristband with the Misfits skull on it. 

Overall, they were very stereotypical punk and he didn’t approve. He grabbed Niall by his shoulders and made him stop looking for more clothes. 

“You look fine.” 

“I’m wearing a polo shirt,” he said with desperation. 

“Yes, you are, a gray one, it’s very fetching.” 

“I look like your dad, I have to find something else. Maybe there’s more mesh…” he tried to turn around to look through clothes again but Louis stopped him. 

“You’re not a mesh kind of guy, Nialler, you’re a gray polo kinda guy. There’s nothing more punk than being yourself, okay?” 

“Harry has a fucking butterfly on his face!” 

“Yes, because Harry too is being himself. Calm down, it’s okay. We all love you just the way you are.” 

“I’m the worst punk guitar player in the world.”

“You’re the best,” Harry shouted from the desk he was sitting on, making Zayn shush him and grab his face to hold him still. 

“Everything about this is horrible.” 

Liam leaned in and kissed Niall’s cheek. “You look good and Louis is right, be yourself, we’re not about the image.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Zayn said. 

“Shut your nipple clamps,” Louis answered. 

“They are piercings and that doesn’t even make sense.”

“You don’t make sense,” Louis mumbled and dragged Niall away from the clothes and to his guitar, which he could handle with much more ease. 

\--

They were _on fire_ that night. Harry almost literally, but Zayn saved him. Everyone else just metaphorically.

Harry was a pretty sweet guy, all in all, he loved his mom and cuddling with puppies, he made their fans cover their tits and dicks when they really wanted to show them and his smile made people like Mick Jagger tweet him encouraging little messages on Twitter. 

Rainbow hair and leather boots didn’t take that away from him, he still jumped on stage like a child out of control, changed their lyrics to things that were only funny when you were so high you couldn’t spell your name any more and danced like an uncoordinated baby giraffe. 

But, the way he closed his eyes on the slow songs, the way he got down on his knees to crawl over to Niall or Louis or Zayn when they were having solos and pushed his face against their dicks shamelessly, making the venues shake with screaming fans, or how he cupped his dick, which Louis knew was half hard and hurting in the too tight trousers, on the dirty songs about fucking strangers, those were the things that were getting him “sexiest musician” titles in newspapers they were warned not to read. 

This evening, the fans loved Harry’s face painting, so he pointed at Zayn and they started the concert with thousands of fans shouting Zayn’s name. 

Zayn didn’t write lyrics often, but when he did they were all about racism and how much he fucking hated it. Sometimes it was a reply to their “fans” and management kept telling them they were losing fans by calling them nazi scum, but the band didn’t give a shit. 

Fans always knew it was time for one of those songs because Zayn would put down the sax and grab a mike. Harry would sing the parts that could be sang but then Zayn would take over, usually growling, and the fans would start slamming into each other until all the anger drained from all of them and Zayn. 

Their music was a mix of too many things. There was rock, punk and screamo with occasional spoken word, combined with sax with a lyrical mix of radical revolution songs or love and sex songs or personal stories. Harry’s voice was too soft for a punk band but he made it work so good no one questioned it after the first album. Sometimes they released demos because they wanted to play them in concerts with fans shouting the lyrics back at them. Those were raw, badly recorded and sounded like they were bootlegging themselves but they fulfilled their purpose and that was all that mattered. 

(The management shit their pants about things like that but Harry’s stepfather was Big Lawyer McMoneypants and he made sure their contracts with publishing and management allowed them as many freedoms as it was possible to get.)

And as their music was a mesh of everything, so were their fans. He could see the fans who could barely afford their tickets and came in wearing jeans ripped with actual old age and shirts with company logos. More and more of them were dark skinned and they obviously liked their music but they seemed to be waiting for Zayn’s parts to really let go. 

Also in the front rows were the punks who could afford leather and quality hairdos with five different shades of purple. Louis loved to look at them but sometimes suspected they were the ones causing most problems online. He could feel it when they met, the entitlement that came from thinking they were the same and really understood each other. That the band were their friends. 

A bit behind, out of the way of the mosh pits, were the fans who made them famous. The fans that no one could explain. Boys with Captain America T-shirts and girls with colored headbands and hair bows. Sometimes so young they had to have parents with them. No one expected them to listen to All Directions, no one expected them to want to come to concerts and be glared at by the usual fans who had no idea why their space was being occupied. 

But somehow the internet got them an army of fans who supported and loved them even if they never listened to any other punk bands. Although, as media liked the remind them, sometimes All Directions were just a gateway band for bandwagon fans. Louis hated the media. 

They screamed and danced and jumped as hard as any other fan and ignored their parents frowning at songs about giving head in dark alleys like little teenage bosses. 

Harry always sang one extra “I love his dick of death!” just for them. 

When the concert was over and with the adrenaline still pumping through them, Louis loved to press Liam against any surface and go down on him quick and dirty, swallow fast, get him off and rub against his leg like the needy slut he was. 

He could hear Harry and Niall getting each other off close by and sometimes Harry would reach out and grab Louis’ hair too, making it crust under his fingers. 

Zayn would go take a shower because he hated being sweaty and was generally no fun at all. 

Louis really fucking loved doing that with all of their fans still in the building, the loud noise like a bass through the walls, reminding him that all those people came to watch _them_ play. 

Sometimes Liam would ask how badly he wanted to do this on stage and Louis would come with his mouth full of Liam and no control over himself at all. 

**

baneswolf91: @LouisTomlinson You’re a faggot!

LouisTomlinson: @baneswolf91 You got a problem with that?

baneswolf91: @LouisTomlinson It’s fucking gross!

LouisTomlinson: @baneswolf91 That’s why you’re not invited to ride my glorious dick, sugarplum. 

**

The club was pumping the kind of music no one listened to but everyone could dance to. It was a gay club and Niall saw a lot of people zoom in on them the second they walked in. He wasn’t sure if it was because they recognized them or because his bandmates were all just that fucking hot. It could be both. Harry was already taking his shirt off, of course, and Liam was in another sleeveless tee which made him look, correctly, like the kind of guy who could hold you down while he fucked you so hard you cried with joy. 

Niall didn’t look at any of the guys starting to move towards them. Some of them would try to hit on the band and even though neither of them would have sex with anyone else, most of the other guys would flirt, and maybe a little more, with strangers. Sometimes it was to rile someone else up, sometimes it was just for fun. Niall didn’t really flirt with men. 

He could never say it to Louis but in his heart of hearts he still considered himself straight. He was just really, really in love with the guys in his band. In love like romantic movies and growing old together and adopting children maybe. He wanted everything with them and sex was just a part of it. 

But he still felt, when Louis was Lou, when she put a dress on with perfume and makeup and painted her nails, that was when Niall wanted her the most, wanted to go down on her and fuck her and hold her close and lick up her bare legs. 

It wasn’t fair because not all women did that anyway, and because it made it seem like he wanted Louis or the other guys less. But sex with women, with Lou, was easy for him, he knew what he wanted and he understood it. Sex with men was confusing and a little bit scary. And for all that he was in a punk band, surrounded by Harry’s mother’s feminist ideals and Lou’s gender fluidity and Zayn’s anti-racist anger, he never felt very radical, never felt punk at all. 

He didn’t dress or speak like it, he still blushed and smiled shyly and said sexist things that made Harry give him long lessons later. 

They were the stars, he was just there enjoying the ride until it ended. Maybe not for them, but definitely for him. They wouldn’t keep him forever. The way they were, it was fast and explosive. Louis and Harry fucked on the first day they met in school where Harry came slumming for some reason Niall never understood, because Harry was public school kid and Louis was poor as a church mouse. Louis dragged Harry to the bathroom and Harry opened his mouth for him right there on the dirty floor. Zayn walked in on them and smirked, sat on the window and watched Louis come with a smoke hanging from his mouth. 

Those were their origins. Niall came later, because he had a guitar and they needed one. They kept him when they realized he could make music to their run-on-sentence lyrics. 

But the first time Harry tried to kiss him Niall flinched and said “I’m straight.” Harry respected that, because that was what he was like. It was Zayn, much later, who he didn’t say no to, because he fell in love with them by then, because he wanted to have sex but he didn’t want to have it with anyone else and didn’t know how to ask. 

They have been a real band for three years now and Niall was still learning to take Harry’s fingers. He never let anyone fuck him. And they didn’t pressure him, but he still felt like he was letting them down, by not being anything enough. 

Liam came after him, was the thing. Zayn was playing the drums at first because they were a punk band and didn’t need a sax, which was what Zayn normally played. But then they all went to a school play to listen to Zayn perform and decided they needed it, somehow, and they made it work. So they had to find a new drummer. Liam came to them shaved and in a clean shirt and Niall thought yes, maybe an ally! But Liam fell into Louis like a raindrop in a lake and he became everything they were, he wrote lyrics with Louis and held Harry down like he wanted to be held, he made them better with his playing and let Zayn mess with his hair until they settled on three layers of spikes that only sometimes changed colors. Liam fit. Niall didn’t even have any tattoos. 

Niall felt a hand on his shoulder and ducked away, thanked the guy politely but shook his head. Harry was already flirting with someone equally as shirtless as he was and Louis was grinding between two guys who looked like they were ascending into heaven. Liam and Zayn were dancing together but they weren’t exactly alone, with a circle of men trying to find an in between them. 

Niall went to the bar and ordered a beer, needing some encouragement before he could throw himself in the sea of dancing bodies. 

He was watching Zayn, was the thing, he was watching him flirt between Liam and three different strangers, wrapping them all around his little finger and he wasn’t paying attention to anything around him. He didn’t really pay attention when the guy to his right started talking to him, and he didn’t think it was strange when he started feeling sleepy, he barely noticed the guy take his drink away and only thought to protest when he had to stand up because the guy wanted him to go somewhere. He had only had one beer, he knew he shouldn’t have felt so dizzy, but they were at the door by the time he realized the guy drugged him. He tried to move away and tell someone but none of his limbs were working and everything he saw took too long to process. 

The cold air hit him hard but instead of making him feel more awake it made him nauseated. The guy’s fingers were strong on his upper arm and it took him a while longer to figure out he was being carried, mostly, because his legs weren’t cooperating. 

He hit the wall hard. Everything around them was dark and he could see the guy smirking, saying something he didn’t even want to process. Niall was pretty sure he himself was saying “no” but he couldn’t actually feel his mouth. 

The kiss was disgusting, his hands under Niall’s shirt were making him sick, everything about it was horrible and all Niall could do was lean against the wall and let it happen. 

Then the guy was off him, there was a shout, but Niall wasn’t sure whose, and then Harry was in his face, touching his cheeks and Niall started to cry. 

\--

He woke up in a huge hotel bed, Louis... no, Lou curled up across him on the bed, but not touching him at all. He reached out and touched her fingers, getting her to wake up. She flinched and looked up, opened her mouth to say something but swallowed it down fast. 

Niall really needed her to hug him, but wasn’t sure if she wanted to, now. 

“Can I, um, can I touch you?” she asked after a long minute. 

Niall nodded and she moved closer, grabbed his hand. He wanted so much more, he wanted all of them, but they were gone and he didn’t want to think about why, didn’t want to ask either. 

But Lou always knew him best. “We weren’t sure if you wanted us around, right now. We’re so sorry. For leaving you alone and for how long it took us to notice, I… I’m so sorry.”

Niall wanted to say he could take care of himself, there was nothing to feel sorry about, but he obviously couldn’t so what he said instead was, “You stopped him.” 

“Yeah, Liam beat him up pretty badly and then Harry… well, the guy will never try anything like that again. Paul said we could sue him, despite it…”

“No,” Niall interrupted. “I don’t want to sue him. If you’re sure that he’ll never, never again, then I don’t want to.” 

He could see Lou wanted to say more but she stopped herself. “Okay, well, either way, we’ll be there for you, alright?” 

Niall mostly noticed that they weren’t being there right now but he nodded anyway, clutched her hand hard and closed his eyes hoping to maybe fall asleep. 

He heard a tentative knock on the door behind him but didn’t turn around. “Is he alright?” Harry whispered. 

“He’s awake,” Lou said. 

“Oh. Niall, um…” 

And he was tearing up again because he didn’t want this careful handling, he wanted them to jump on him like they always did and make him think there’s nothing wrong with him even if it wasn’t true. 

“I should…” Harry whispered again and closed the door and Niall broke a sob at the sound of it. He covered his face with one arm and pushed it into the pillow harder. 

“I’m sorry,” he told Lou, “I keep fucking up, I’m sorry.” 

“What are you talking about, Niall, you did nothing wrong, hey, hey,” she tried tugging Niall’s arm down from his face, “please look at me.” 

Niall just shook his head. “It’s okay if you don’t want me any more. I know I was never… not really, but it’s all weird now…” he kept talking but he wasn’t really sure what he was saying, it was hard to explain why after more than three years together, after last night, all he had to say was that he was in love with them all. 

“Shit, shit. Wait here, I’ll be back in a second, please,” Niall felt a kiss in his hair and then Lou jumped off the bed and out the door and he felt the loneliness choke him from the inside. 

But then she was back and not careful this time. She crawled into his arms and pressed herself against him, wrapped their legs together. He felt the bed move behind him and a warm hand on his back. He sobbed again in Lou’s hair and the hand quickly moved away and he hated it so much. 

“Niall,” it was Liam sitting behind him, “can we hug you? We don’t know if…”

“Please,” Niall stopped him quickly. 

It took a second for them all to find a way to reach him at the same time. He was surrounded by them all and crying into Lou’s hair and maybe it would still be okay, maybe he hadn’t fucked everything up. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Liam and I destroyed that piece of shit, he’s never getting hard again,” Harry answered. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Zayn told him, his lips touching Niall’s ear. 

“We love you,” Liam said simply. Niall could see his hand, bruised and skin cracked open, lying near Niall’s cheek. He turned a little to kiss it. He kept wondering what Harry did but wasn’t sure he should know. Probably none of them should. 

“I just feel so…” he couldn’t really explain, because Harry made him read a lot and he knew all the things he was supposed to feel and how it wasn’t his fault and how he wasn’t dirty, the society was to blame for his reactions, he knew all of that. But he felt it anyway. 

The silence was too long, maybe they heard all his thoughts anyway. Harry kissed his chin after a while and said with absolute certainly, “You’re ours,” and Niall could just nod because for a moment, that was all that mattered.

\--

They released the demo two days later. The cover was Liam’s scraped up bloody fist and the message was “We’re starting with this song, come ready to burn shit down!”

Harry demanded silence before they started. 

“Let me tell you something, my cuties, it’s not your job to keep an eye out on your glass. You’re not supposed to be in state of constant vigilance. The system is corrupt, the system is making you responsible. YOU. DID. NOTHING. WRONG!”

And the number of eyes Niall saw tear up at that made him fuck up the whole start of the song but he couldn’t even pretend to care. 

**

_“It’s ridiculous. Their music is shit, their lyrics are obscene, they look and dress like homeless clowns. What are those things their singer paints on his face, a bad acid trip? And how, for the love of god, do they have so many fans? That’s what I don’t get. All these teen girlies jumping around, all marry me Louis! Louis wears dresses, okay? He’s not gonna marry you, honey, he’s gonna take your clothes and run.”_

Louis threw a party when Chris Moyles got fired. 

**

Zayn loved writing songs. It was a group process, often. Even if Zayn wrote a notebook worth of lyrics it would still have to go through everyone else before they made it into a song. Everyone added a little part of themselves to it and really, there was no one Zayn trusted more with his anger than his boys. 

Louis and Liam ended up with a name on every song mostly because whatever rant Harry or Zayn got into, they were able to put it into lyrics that fit the music they were making. 

And the music was, well, Niall was magic, and the fact that they managed to be a punk band that used sax on almost every song made Zayn giggle every time he thought about it. He had never considered himself a nerd, really, but he loved the sax, jazz, comics and classical literature which wouldn’t normally put him high on any cool scale. But his saving grace was that he had started smoking ridiculously early so everyone thought he was dangerous, instead or just a loner dork. 

So he managed to push a saxophone into their band and Niall learned to work with it and the music was amazing, if he did say so himself. 

What Zayn hated more than anything - maybe even more than the interviews but he didn’t want to exaggerate - was the recording process. They were rarely allowed to all play together. Usually they were alone with their one bit of music repeating it until it filled some arbitrary recording standard like their fans had Hansen speakers and held listening parties with shrimp cocktails. 

He loved the end result, though, so he didn’t actually complain, but he hated the recording silently. 

When it wasn’t his turn to record it did give him some free time, and he liked to spend it alone. Walking around if possible, but just staying at home and spray painting his walls was okay too. 

It was different at night, when he would put his hoodie on and run from the three bedroom apartment he now owned for some reason, back to his old neighborhood, where his whole family had shared two rooms, and he took out the shitty spray he used to use, the only protection a bandana over his mouth, and tag old brown-gray walls of buildings that lay abandoned until homeless people needed shelter from the police meant to protect them. 

He painted differently on those walls than in the places their fans could see him. He painted angry and fast, sending messages a whole other legion of people would read. He painted thinking about this “civilized world” he lived in now, where his twitter feed kept calling him a terrorist for saying it how it is. 

But during the day he stayed home, spray painted his room with calming thoughts and ate food his mom put in containers for him last time she visited. 

He took out his studs and piercings, from his eyebrows and ears to his nipples and dick. He still remembered how excited he was about the first one. He remembered how angry it made him when he realized it was just an excuse for another name to be thrown at him. 

That was when he stopped giving a shit. Stuck between white kids calling him a Paki and pretty much everyone calling him a faggot, he discovered vents for his anger through art and music, and then through those he found friends who taught him to care again. 

Still, every time he lay down his expensive studs in front of his wide mirror in his huge new apartment, he wondered if he was fighting for something or just betraying his roots. 

He loved his boys, more than anything except his family, but they couldn’t always understand everything. And Harry was an amazing guy, raised well and taught to listen and think before he spoke, but he was born too rich to ever be able to really grasp hopelessness. 

Zayn wasn’t sure if they’d even be friends if the first time he saw Harry he hadn't been with his knees in piss choking on Louis’ dick. 

He didn’t even find out until three months later when Harry invited him and Louis to play some music in his garage and Zayn realized his garage was bigger than Zayn’s family’s whole apartment. He wanted to storm out and ask what the fuck the joke was, but he was way beyond in love with both of them at that point and didn’t know how to leave any more. 

He did punch Harry in the face when Harry bought him a new sax after Zayn complained about his old shitty one one too many times. He gave the new sax to some busker on the street and whined about his old one loudly for months every time Harry was in earshot. 

And Zayn’s family was kinda big and not exactly upper class but they could afford to buy him a saxophone and an occasional piercing. Louis’ family, on the other hand, was in a way worse situation, with a shit father who abandoned them and performed actual miracles to get out of paying alimony, so Louis usually just cackled at Zayn’s pride and accepted Harry’s gifts with wet kisses and promises or repayment “in nature” which in turn would send Harry into guilty rants. 

He didn’t understand Harry’s guilt or presents until they got signed and he found himself with his first real million on his account. He wanted to buy everyone everything. A home for his family, a car for the old lady down the street who always had to walk alone to the store, an education for his cousin who was the first person in the family he came out to and who hugged him and kissed him and told him it was alright. 

He didn’t exactly apologize to Harry, because he didn’t feel he should, but he did give him his old sax when he bought a brand new quality one with his own money. 

\--

The next day it was him and Lou at the studio. Lou would do her guitar and Zayn would be doing the screaming. 

It worked for him because he always associated Lou and screamo anyway. It was Louis who had made him listen to Black Veil Brides first and the music was alright but it was the screaming that had made him go ‘Yes! That’s how I feel!” 

He'd spent that whole night googling screamo techniques to find out if he could do that too and he showed up at Louis’ door the next morning, unannounced. 

He knocked and said okay when he heard Louis shout "Just a second!" There was a lot of banging and running and Zayn was starting to get worried because Louis was supposed to be home alone. It was Saturday and his mom would take the girls out and let Louis be a brooding teenager home alone for a while. It was their thing, her _thank you_ to Louis for keeping his grades up and taking good care of the girls. Only Louis didn’t sound like he was brooding. 

“Zayn,” Louis sounded like he was leaning on the door, “you’re gonna have to come back, I can’t open now.” 

“Um, are you okay? Is it your dad? Your sisters? Your mom? What’s going on?” 

He heard a sigh from the other side too clearly through the shitty door. “I just can’t, Zayn.” 

“I’m not really okay with that, like, is someone stopping you? Should I call the police?” 

There was banging on the door and Zayn was actually reaching for his phone when he heard the lock click open. 

“Don’t punch me, okay?” he heard before the door opened. 

And that was how Zayn met Lou, as Louis preferred to be called sometimes. 

\--

“So you’re a woman?” Zayn asked later, when he was sitting at Lou’s table and drinking her horrible bitter tea with no sugar. 

“Only sometimes.” 

“Like when your mum is out?” 

“No, like, whenever I feel like it. Some days I feel like one, other days like the other, some days I don’t even care.” 

“Oh,” Zayn took a sip of his tea. He wondered how Harry handled this situation. He was probably accepting as fuck and read a million books about it and offered to buy dresses for Lou. 

Though apparently that was one present Lou didn’t accept because the dress she was wearing was sliding down her shoulder, too big for her tiny frame, probably her mother’s. 

“So, um, is this going to be a problem?” Lou asked in a voice that shook like how Zayn’s did that morning when he started growling for the first time. 

“No, I just…” 

Lou’s fingers trembled a little and Zayn reached out to grab them but Lou flinched and stood up. She covered it up by picking up her full cup and spilling it down the drain like that was exactly what she meant to do. 

“It’s just I’m gay,” Zayn finished what he was trying to say instead of commenting.

“O... kay?” Lou looked confused.

“I know we kinda kissed, and that you and Harry don’t mind if I play with you, and that’s great, really, but I’m really, really gay. And I can’t do that,” he waved a hand in a way he hoped implied ‘have sex’ so he wouldn’t actually have to say it, “with you, when you’re a woman.” He cringed. It was shit of him, probably. Harry probably didn’t care at all. 

He heard a small snort from where Lou was leaning against the sink and he looked over to see how badly he had fucked up. Lou was staring at him with amused eyes and pressing a palm against her lips. “That’s amazing,” she finally said before she cracked up. 

(He found out later Harry's reaction wasn't some texbook miracle and that he mainly focused on whether or not Lou would let him wear her underwear sometimes, which got Louis a bit angry and there was a week long fight before Harry realized Louis coming out wasn't actually about him.)

\--

So being in recording with Lou was fun. She made faces at him from her glass booth and kept making him crack up in the middle of the lyrics until they made them turn around from each other and do the recording that way. They were both laughing so hard when they finally got out, it took Zayn a while to realize she was actually a little bit sad. 

They were waiting for the car to pick them up and she leaned against him so he could curl an arm around her shoulders. He waited, because she always spilled to him. 

“Harry’s out with Grimshaw again,” she said eventually. 

Zayn hummed noncommittally. Harry was always more of a social butterfly than the rest of them, it didn’t usually mean anything. 

“Nick wants him,” Lou continued.

“Everyone wants him. Everyone _loves_ him.”

“Yeah but Harry wants him back.”

And Zayn didn’t know what to say to that because Lou knew Harry better than anyone so Zayn believed her but he wasn’t sure what that meant, in the long run. 

“That doesn’t mean he’s gonna do anything about it.” 

“Yeah but, what if he’s had it with us? You’re right, everyone loves him, he could leave and be normal.” 

“He couldn’t be fucking normal if he tried, Lou, he wears your panties for fun and wants you to blow him at our concerts.”

Lou laughed quietly, “You’re supposed to say there’s no such thing as normal.” 

Zayn shrugged. There was "socially acceptable" which Harry wasn't, or wouldn't be if he wasn't a fucking millionaire. So whatever.

If something was going to happen, it would happen soon. Neither Harry nor Lou were known for their patience.

\--

And he was right.

Harry sat them all down at the table a week later and Zayn knew it was bad because his fingers were trembling and Harry only got scared like that before concerts. 

“I want to have sex with Nick Grimshaw.” 

Zayn could feel the tension close up around them as Lou’s jaw went stiffer. Liam looked away but Zayn could see his eyes were already wet. 

“Why,” Niall asked, a little sharp, like how Zayn felt. 

“I just, it’s not a big deal, I don’t want to stop what we have I just, I don’t know,” he slumped a bit, looking at his hands and not at any of them. 

“Okay,” Liam was, of course, the first one to agree. Because he thought that was what Harry needed. 

But Zayn thought Harry needed honesty, false agreements and silent resentment weren’t gonna cut it. 

“I’m not okay with it,” he said. “It’s gonna change everything, it’s gonna hurt everyone, and I like Grimshaw, he’s a nice bloke, but in my opinion he’s not worth it. If you want to do it, if you think he is, then okay, go for it, but let’s not pretend we’re all gonna be fine after it’s finished. If it’s finished.” 

Harry’s eyes were wide but Zayn didn’t have mercy about this. Harry looked at Niall who just nodded and pointed at Zayn. “What he said.” 

Then he turned to Lou who was still sitting there clutching her own fingers and staring at Liam’s knees. 

“Lou?” Harry asked, tentatively. 

Lou exploded in motion and anger. “How the fuck do you not have enough?! There is four of us, Harry, four! That’s three more than most people get! What’s he gonna give you that the rest of us can’t? Just explain that to me! What makes him better?!” 

“It’s not like that,” Harry said with a stubborn set to his face, “I just like him too. I want, like if we’re out one night and he makes a pass at me, I want to know what to do.” 

Lou sighed and leaned back on her chair. “Do what you want, Harry, just do whatever the fuck you want.” 

“But I’m asking you!” Harry shouted with his palms slapping the table lightly. 

“Like we’re gonna ban you from fucking someone? What the hell good would that do?” Niall asked. 

“Well why the fuck not?!” Harry shouted and then looked back down at the table

Zayn stared at Harry for a really long time, he was pretty sure the others were too. 

“Harry,” Zayn leaned in, “did Nick make a pass at you?” 

“Yes,” Harry said quietly this time.

“And did you tell him no?” 

“Yes.” 

“What else d’you tell him?” Lou jumped in. 

“That, that you wouldn’t let me.” 

“Which one of us?” 

“All of you.” 

“Oh,” was all Zayn could say. 

“You’re a mess, Harry,” Niall finally said what they were all thinking. 

“So,” Liam finally joined, “do you want to have sex with him or not?” 

“I do. But I want you to not let me.” 

Zayn slammed his forehead against the table and enjoyed the metal clang his nose ring made. 

**

 _Q: “How do you feel about these new self proclaimed punk bands that seem to love bandwagon fans and make the half-half music no one can define?”_

_MM: “I think there’s nothing more punk than playing what you want and being yourself. I think they use music for good and their fans can see that. And since I’m assuming you’re asking me about All Directions I can tell you right now, I fucking love them. I love their attitude and their music and that curly little singer of theirs is hot as fuck.”_

HarryStyles: @marilynmanson Hiiii, we love you too! 

**

Being a voice for everyone’s anger or joy was sometimes hard. Zayn was the only one who sang parts of his own songs and Harry was grateful because he couldn’t imagine himself voicing those things. 

He had fun with the sexy songs, where he could sing about fucking like bunnies or gangbangs in gay clubs, but he didn’t know, when they first started, they would end up caring about so many things or that they would be allowed to be so honest in their music. 

Louis and Zayn pushed all the limits online anyway. The music industry had a lot of unspoken rules and “be nice to every asshole who ever made a hit single” seemed to be the most important one. His band didn’t really care about any of that. They started shit with Thicke, Bieber, Oakley and fucking Perez who was considered god of all things gay entertainment even though everyone knew he was nothing but a piece of shit stuck on celebrity shoe. 

And when it came to their lyrics, they just went all the way, like Zayn’s “You'll never take me alive, because we're already dead inside” that made him want to hug him or Louis’ “I don't know if I've been reborn, lived a past life, suffered in another time, I don't know” which made him side-eye him because what? But the fans fucking loved it and tattooed it on their wrists. 

Then there was Liam who auditioned in a white button down and would despite the hair spikes and massive arms and filthy, filthy mouth forever stay that way in Harry’s memory. Who then turned around wrote texts like “He is the lamb, she is the slaughter. She's moving way too fast and all he wanted was to hold her. Nothing that he tells her is really having an effect,“ and then never talked about it again, no matter how patiently Harry waited. 

If Harry had guessed, which he sometimes did, he would have said Niall with his quick smiles and open heart would be the one to spoil easily, to fall under Louis’ spell and become just a little bit naughty. Liam, with his blushing cheeks and trembling fingers and forever staring at his toes, he imagined would always stay a bit shy. 

He was wrong. Niall was torn and sometimes felt inadequate, but he was who he was. Liam on the other hand, had apparently just been waiting for Louis to push him in the right direction. He was still sometimes quiet and blushing, especially when Zayn teased him, because Zayn knew parts of him that the rest couldn’t always see, but he was often also loud and open, laughing with Louis and messing with Harry, not demanding attention but giving it freely. 

They all shaped each other and together they made their music, but Harry still didn’t always feel comfortable being the voice to it all. Sometimes knowing the story behind it helped. Sometimes it was just a news article or a book, something Harry could feel the same way about. But there were things he was afraid to ask about because they sounded too personal, like no one should be singing them into a crowd of people who might not understand, least of all Harry. 

He worried about sounding angry when he should be sad or sounding tired when he should be calling for outrage. 

They practiced a lot and he asked dozens of questions about every line, but sometimes he was happy with non-answers. 

His boys never complained about it though, if he made any mistakes he never knew, because they were happy to let him sing it, like he knew best. He didn’t know anything. 

He felt like he was privy to every single dark corner of their minds and still somehow couldn’t see the whole picture. It was frustrating. It was why he spent so much more time with other people than any of them did. 

There were moments when he wanted to become a part of every single one of them, just be a group forever and never have a thing happen to one that all the others didn’t experience too. And then there were moments when he couldn't’ stand being near them, half knowing but too knowing and wondering if he would lose all parts of himself if he took all of them in. 

None of them seemed to be aware of it really, Louis maybe a little, but Harry suspected he mostly saw Harry leaving, not why he was doing it.

Nick was sweet. He was honest and flirty and clumsy in an adorable way. Harry thought he could love him if his soul wasn’t already married. 

\--

They were all at his house because he had a small recording studio in his basement. The others went to grab some food and he and Niall stayed waiting. 

Niall was playing him a song, one he didn’t plan to put any lyrics on, it would be just him and Liam, guitar and drums. He was watching Niall, they all did a little, after what had happened. It was a slow song, for the most part, but it went a bit hectic in the middle, a bit panicky. Harry didn’t need lyrics to know what it was about. 

He sat next to Niall and kissed him. It was the first time he’d done it like that since that night and he felt Niall startle a little. 

He moved away quickly but Niall stopped him. “No I, I wasn’t sure you wanted to, still.” 

Harry smiled at him even though it burned him on the inside. “We always want you. But we know you weren’t really…” Harry paused, not sure how to not sound condescending. “We didn’t turn you gay. I don’t even know why you’re with us, like that, even though I love it. And we thought, maybe after that, _you_ wouldn’t want to.” 

“The way he made me feel… it was never like that with you, not even a part of it. I’m with you because I love you. I know it’s not conventional, or whatever, but I don’t want sex with anyone else. Like, I miss boobs, sometimes, because they are really amazingly soft, okay, you know, you’ve been there,” and Harry nodded because he did know, “but waking up with you guys is my favorite thing ever.” 

Harry hugged him tight. “You’re most punk of all of us, Niall Horan.” 

\--

“Are you a sex god, Liam?” Harry asked from the floor where he rolled over when Liam tried to reach for him again. Harry’s dick was aching though, he didn’t want any more. Probably. Unless Liam told him to, then he would. 

Zayn snorted from the other bed, laughing at Harry while he fucked into Louis slowly. Niall was on the floor between the beds too, naked but playing a game on his iPad. Harry patted his ass gently and got a kiss for it. 

“Do you think he’s a sex god?” Harry asked Niall. 

“Not really. I just think you’re super easy.” 

Louis cracked up at that and Harry pouted until Liam leaned down to kiss him happy. 

“Liam,” Louis finally said when he stopped laughing, “is a mystery.” 

A strange kind of hush fell over the room because even after three years and so many months spent together, on tour and off, that was still true in a way. They met Liam’s family. A perfectly nice middle class family who loved him to bits. They knew he liked comics and pasta and was bullied and lonely and one kidney down before he came to them. But they didn’t know, for instance, where lyrics he wrote came from - he was, in Harry’s extensive experience, the one most likely to shrug off questions about his texts and just let Harry do whatever he wanted. 

“He’s not wrong,” Harry said. “You're always there for us when we need you and you do all the conversations with management, but I’m not sure any of us would know what to do if anything happened to you. Or what you do when we're not together and you're not with your family.” 

“Don’t mind me, just getting fucked here,” Louis said. 

“Seriously,” Liam said with a weird smile, “you’re destroying his mood, can we not.” 

But he should have seen it as a mistake it was because Louis hated secrets, was convinced they would destroy them, so he literally stopped Zayn with a hand to his hip and sat up to look at Liam. 

“Okay now I’m curious. What’s this double life you’re leading, Agent Payne?” 

Liam sat up with his shoulders tight but still tried to smile it away. “There’s no double life, just me, so can we please do the fucking and sleeping now?” 

“The more defensive you get, the less they’ll believe you,” Niall said, still buried in his iPad. 

“He’s not wrong,” Zayn added. 

Liam just got up and stepped over Harry and Niall to get to his pants. He put them on and walked to the door. Harry was still sitting on the floor, confused, but Louis looked like he was gonna go after Liam when Liam stopped, his hand on the knob.

“There’s nothing. There’s literally nothing for me outside this band. I’m gonna go to sleep in your room Zayn, please everyone fuck off.” 

His voice was defeated. He left the room with the four of them in, looking at each other.

There was absolutely no way any of them were going to fuck off. They followed him loudly, naked through the hotel hallway, to Zayn’s room. 

Harry wrapped around Liam quickly, not giving him time to scoot off the bed. “It’s not like we have some wild lives beyond the band, Liam, come on.” 

“That’s such a lie,” Liam said. “You have dinners with Hollywood stars, Niall has entire Mullingar on speed dial, Zayn has his R’n’B buddies and Louis has his school football buddies. You all have things.” 

“And you just have us,” Louis said. 

It made Liam even tenser so Harry looked at Louis sharply, hoping to stop him before he went further. 

“But you’re famous, Liam, you can go out and meet like ten people right now, with your pants off,” Niall said, confused. 

“I don’t want to. I meet people, they are fun, whatever, and when we’re done talking, I want to be back with you. You asked how you'd comfort me if anything was wrong. This, all of you here, that's what I'd want. When we’re off tour I spend time with my family and I’m happy with that.”

“Why did you run, then?” Harry asked.

“Just because I’m okay with it doesn’t mean I don’t know what a loser that makes me.” 

“I don’t think you’re a loser for living how you want to live,” Zayn said, “although I’m not sure it’s the healthiest practice but, as long as you’re happy, I guess.”

Liam shook his head. “I know we won’t last forever. The band or us. And when that happens, I’ll move on, I won’t stand in front of your windows singing old songs and crying. But because I know that, I want to spend all the time I can with you, and not split the time we do have between fans and management and media and then a bunch of strangers on top of that.” 

Louis was making his way into Liam’s arms not at all gently and when he finally settled in he pinched Liam somewhere hard. Harry only felt him flinch but he knew what it meant. “The band might fall apart, but that doesn’t mean we will. I can’t imagine finding a person, or more of them, who would give me all the things you guys do. If I ever do find them, it will probably be Jesus here to save the meek and he won’t have time for my shit, okay?” 

Liam laughed and they all fell on the bed around him, ready to sleep now that everything was alright again. “I still didn’t come,” Louis said.

“Too late, now you get to wait till tomorrow,” Zayn told him.

“Ugh.” 

But Harry knew Louis wasn’t hard any more and it wasn’t long before they all fell asleep, leaving just him and the lyrics in his head awake. He thought about Niall’s instrumental and how strange it will be to just sit on the side and watch him perform, but how good it will feel for Niall and how they'll all understand, even without lyrics. Because Harry wasn't the only person in the band.

He thought about Nick Grimshaw and his his hand on Harry’s shoulder, how little it would matter in five years, but he would always remember Liam telling him he liked his lyrics. 

**

It was the last night of the tour. The fans sounded like they were screaming their throats raw and so did Harry. 

Liam’s arms were on fire as he was trying to focus on the next beat and the next song but his band kept dragging his attention away. He saw Louis jumping around, barely aware of his bass and Niall grinning into his guitar, head low and eyes focused, like he couldn’t play it all with his eyes closed. Zayn was off to the side, seducing a particular group of fans with the saxophone, Liam could hear the distinct moaning note in the screaming that usually happened when Zayn looked at someone too intensely. It was dangerous. Harry was bent in half, rasping into the mic with a voice that must have crawled up from the bottom of his lungs. His singing teacher was crying somewhere. 

They had a short interview after the show, something about the sponsors, and then they were off to the party, where they would smoke up and drink and probably break something and feel very punk before it was time to get back on the plane to see their families and pretend they still drank their milk warm to help them get to sleep. 

They all lived close by though, so they would eventually worry their families with how codependent they were. _No, mom, we can’t just not see each other this weekend, yes, I know we’ve spent every waking hour for the past nine months together, that’s how we like it._

Liam knew his family was praying that Louis was his boyfriend, but they suspected the truth and it scared him a little but at least he could hug whoever he wanted for however long he wanted and all his family would do was despair a while. 

He kept thinking that maybe Louis was right, maybe they were bigger than the band, maybe the band could just be one step of their life together.

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics used are from: Pansy Division, Leathermouth, Dredg and Brand New
> 
> Disclaimer: none of this is true, obv.


End file.
